Slipping
by whatfangirlwhere
Summary: Arthur wants to believe that Alfred will be okay, but sometimes people just can't be saved from the things that haunt their minds. UsUk, AU.


Alfred was slipping.

Arthur was trying to stay in blissful ignorance, trying to believe that he was the same Alfred he had known since they had met as children in the primary school-Elementary, they called it here in America, he supposed. Alfred had always corrected him, he was a smart-aleck of a child, all big blue eyes and freckles and pudge. The kids would laugh at him, this little bumbling chubby child who had an odd little laugh and big dreams. He said he wanted to be a superhero, he drew little stick figure versions of himself soaring across the sky with his arm extended, saving innocent cats and puppy dogs. Arthur thought it was rather sweet, but he was the only one-the other kids wanted to be firefighters and policeman, veterinarians and doctors. Arthur himself said a schoolteacher, and no one said anything-they didn't expect anything mroe from the gawky little twig of a child with messy hair and a book in his hands even in second grade. But that had started his attachment to Alfred, when he found him in the bushes sniffling and hiccuping, and Arthur had hesitated before he wrapped his arms around him, like his mother would when he cried.

From that day onward they were inseperable, even as Alfred grew into his awkward limbs, as he grew taller and broader than Arthur, and suddenly all those same girls who had teased him were flocking around him. Arthur knew better, of course, he was Alfred's first kiss, first date, first awkward fondling in the bedroom one night when his parents were out. He was also the one to hold Alfred the night his mother died, in an accident on her way to pick up Alfred from football practice. He quit, after that, and no one said a thing. If he acted differently at school it was expected, it was something people did when they were grieiving after all.

But Arthur knew it wasn't just that. Alfred was changing, and he didn't know what to do. Suddenly, Alfred was afraid of his own shadow, and he seemed afraid.

"They're talking about me, aren't they, Artie?" He said one afternoon, as they spooned on Arthur's bed after school. Arthur just turned around, wrapping his arms around his nec and resting his forehead against his love's.

"Of course not, Alfred-why would you think that?"

"I can hear them-they're always talking about me, Artie, they…they're pitying me, they think I'm depressed or something. That I'm crazy-I'm not, am I?"

Arthur swallowed, looking into those innocent blue eyes, he wasn't sure what to tell Alfred. That he'd been acting oddly since that night, that he didn't talk to anyone and once told Arthur he believed they were out to get them? That he was terrified Alfred was slipping away from him, that he was losing him? He just bit his lip, forcing a smile onto his lips and brushing them against Alfred's, hugging his neck tighter.

"Of course you're not, you're my love, Alfred."

"I know…I know, I'm your love, and you're mine." Alfred said softly, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his waist, holding him close. "But I just don't know…I mean, I feel…I'm scared, Arthur, and I don't like to be scared."

"I know…oh, my darling, I know you don't like being afraid, but it's alright to be afraid, you've been through a rough time and it's normal."

"Is it normal to be like this? To be afraid that everyone's talking behind my back, that they're…mocking me, saying awful things about me?" Alfred said, and Arthur tried to irnogre the hint of hysteric in his voice, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"You're alright, Alfred Franklin Jones, do you hear me? You're alright, I promise you, and I'll be right here, I won't let them do anything to you."

Alfred just nodded, burying his face in Arthur's sweater, nuzzling into his shoulder and holding him, and they sat like that for a long while. That night, they made love, slowly and sensually, and Alfred cried, and Arthur held him just like he had that very first day. The days went on, and Arthur tried to believe that everything was okay, but sometimes Alfred would look at him and all he could see was terror, and pain, and he wondered what the world looked like to Alfred right then. He wondered if he still saw him, or if he was just something else jumping out at him, something else that would hurt him like they'd hurt his mother, take him away from him. And some days it was easy to pretend everything was normal, and they would go out for dinner and Alfred would eat his burger and chat about superheroes like he always did.

One day, Alfred stood up in the middle of class and screamed, running out. Everyone else just stared, and once again Arthur was the only one who would go to him, even when Alfred stared at him with wide sky blue eyes, and barely even seemed to know who he was-no, it was Alfred, of course he knew who he was, and Arthur loved him. He could fix this, he had to.

"Alfred…Alfred, my love, it's alright. Could you tell me what's wrong?"

"They were…they were laughing at me." Alfred said, looking right at him, and Arthur could see his hands were shaking as he toyed with the cuffs of his letterman's jacket. He took a step closer, trying to ignore the pang in his heart when Alfred flinched and stepped back toward the wall.

"No…no, love, they were laughing at a joke that you said, not at you."

"But they were! They think I'm crazy-Arthur, I'm crazy, aren't I? I just-oh, god, they're going to laugh at me more, they're going to mock me, what if they come after me? They're gonna come after me, they know who I am, they know I'm a superhero, they're coming after me!"

"Alfred! For god's sake, stop this nonsense!" Arthur cried, and then he realized his mistake when Alfred cringed and stepped back more, reaching up and covering his ears, sliding down the wall and curling up.

"I'm sorry, Artie, I'm sorry I'm sorry, I…I've messed up, I'm sorry, please don't hate me, Artie, I love you, I love you, I love you, please…"

"Oh…oh, Alfred, my dearest Alfred, I would never hate you, I'm so sorry. Come on, we'll take you home, give you a nice cold glass of soda pop and put on your favorite movie, alright?"

Alfred didn't say anything, he just reached up and clung onto Arthur the moment he drew close enough, wrapping his arms around him as if he were the only thing holding him there. Arthur got him out to his car, driving him home and setting him up on the couch with a glass of coke and a bowl of popcorn with extra butter. They sat there, cuddling and watching the movie, and for a moment everything melted away and it was just them, and Arthur was just being held by the man he loved more than anything in the world.

But a month and several more episodes later, he was kicked out of school, for his own good they said. Arthur came over every day after school to find his father, still consumed with grief and now the horror of his son's deteriorating mental health, not sure what to do with Alfred. He had locked himself away in his room and refused to come out, only letting Arthur inside, and even then sometimes he looked scared when he finally would open the door. Arthur didn't know what to do, tried to convince himself that he was the same Alfred, and sometimes he could, sometimes Alfred would look at him and it seemed like he was just looking at him and seeing him, not a threat. But sometimes Alfred would wake up and see his face, and he would push him away, screaming at him and telling him not to touch him. Arthur wouldn't leave, he would wait until Alfred had calmed down enough for him to get close, no matter how long it took, and he would hold him and rub his back and tell him everything would be okay. He wondered if he said it enough he could convince himself too.

He continued to tell him it would be okay the entire car ride over to the hospital, when there finally came a day that Arthur couldn't get Alfred to calm down and it was like Alfred didn't even know who he was anymore. He had hit him, left a bruise blooming across his cheekbone, screamed at him to stay away, that he was going to hurt him and he shouldn't touch him. Arthur had managed to get him cool enough to get him in the car, telling him he was taking him to a safe place, and Alfred hadn't liked it but he went along with him. Arthur cried, this time, but Alfred didn't wrap his arms around him or hug him, he didn't even seem to notice, curled up on the seat and staring out the window. Arthur wiped his eyes on Alfred's letterman's jacket, which hung too big on his small frame, and helped him out of the car when they got there. The nurses were waiting for him, and they helped him into a room, assuring them that he would have the best treatment, pills, therapy, anything they could think of to help his paranoia-that was their prognosis, at least. Arthur heard but didn't comprehend, it was like they were speaking another language, all he could see was Alfred, his Alfred, terrified and alone in that room, curled up on the bed crying, and there was a door between them and Arthur couldn't hold him, couldn't tell him it was okay. And Arthur couldn't take it, he ran out of the hospital, stopping once he was outside and finally allowed himself to break down.

He'd lost Alfred. He wasn't dead, but the Alfred he knew and loved was gone.

That wouldn't stop him from going back and visitng, of course, for years after. Alfred was mellowed out, on pills, and sometimes there was talk of him going home. Arthur didn't allow himself to get excited about it anymore, but he tried to help him still, talk to him about normal things, bring him comics that the hospital allowed. It was slow, but Arthur was determined-

He loved Alfred, and he would fix him no matter what it took.


End file.
